


Three Slices

by SCFrankles



Series: The Tea Set [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Alternate Universe, Gen, Humor, in which Sherlock and John are teapots, story told in three 221Bs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/SCFrankles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sebastian Moran had been a colonel, a hunter and a professional gambler. Becoming the right-hand man of a Moriarty teapot wasn’t the strangest thing to ever happen to him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Slices

**Author's Note:**

> This is an epilogue to [Five Lumps](http://archiveofourown.org/works/884578). It just about stands on its own but probably won't absolutely make sense if you haven't read its predecessor. _Three Slices_ takes the form of three 221Bs. A 221B is a story 221 words long, final word beginning with "b" - though in this case, each 221B is acting as a section of a larger story.
> 
> 221B form invented by [KCScribbler](http://kcscribbler.livejournal.com/) ([KCS](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4162281/1/221B)).
> 
> Both stories were inspired by [this photograph](http://consultingcupcake.tumblr.com/post/36519345468/consulting-teapots-once-i-feel-in-the-mood) by Consulting Cup Cake on Tumblr.
> 
> Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock and John property of Moffat and Gatiss, and the BBC; The Consulting Teapots and their cosies belong to [Consulting Cup Cake](http://consultingcupcake.tumblr.com/).
> 
> * * *

Sebastian Moran had been a colonel, a hunter and a professional gambler. Becoming the right-hand man of a Moriarty teapot wasn’t the strangest thing to ever happen to him.

And assisting in its archenemy’s demise wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever done.

 

As ordered, he’d casually mentioned to his girlfriend Ronnie how _interesting_  Holmes teapots were.

She’d discussed it with Mrs Turner, who’d asked Mrs Hudson if the WI could borrow Sherlock for mid-morning tea.

“Why don’t I just ‘accidentally’ knock it off the table?” Moran had said.

But the Moriarty had wanted to play first.

 

After it was all over, Moran had gone to retrieve his CO.

“You’re too late,” Mrs Hudson had said tearfully, showing him the pieces of the Moriarty on the floor.

He’d controlled his temper. What was the point of risking prison over a batty old woman? The Holmes teapot was the one he wanted revenge against and that was gone too.

 

Now, all this time later, here he was: unemployed, barred from the casinos for cheating and reduced to stealing silverware from the Women’s Institute.

And there was the bloody Holmes teapot: returned, reassembled and back at work—holding a ridiculous bunch of flowers instead of tea.

Moran chewed viciously on his bara brith.

The Moriarty had been destroyed but the Holmes teapot was blooming.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, God. That’s Moran,” said John.

He’d only seen him once, just after Sherlock had... fallen. Those cruel features were impossible to forget though.

After viewing its remains, the Moriarty’s accomplice had simply stared unblinking into Mrs Hudson’s face.

Lestrade had been boiling. He was ready to defend her.

But then Moran had abruptly left—doing nothing worse than shoving her out of his way.

 

“Has he been following us?” asked John.

“Doubtful,” said Sherlock. “I watched him steal twelve items of cutlery before he noticed me.”

He smiled. “I think our reunion is simply a useful accident.”

John wasn’t feeling quite so relaxed. “He blames you for the Moriarty’s destruction. He’s a dangerous man.”

“So,” said Sherlock, “probably time to cage him.”

Moran was approaching their table now.

“What’s the plan?” said John, rocking a little—ready to loosen his lid and throw his tea over Moran if it became necessary.

“Just wait,” said Sherlock. “Remember, you told me he was enraged but didn’t attack Mrs Hudson. This is a man full of anger but also self-control.

“A bit of petty theft is what he came here for. And he’ll complete that before taking his revenge.

“Moran has got to pass a valuable cake slice before he reaches us. And there are some tempting cake forks next to the Battenberg.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock watched as first the cake slice and then the forks disappeared into Moran’s pockets.

Moran straightened up and continued striding towards the teapots, his expression displaying unholy anticipation.

Sherlock glanced at John, who was tense and ready for action.

“Do you know what I learnt from the sugar lumps business?” he said, returning his gaze to Moran.

“No, what?” said John, startled.

“I learnt that you can’t do everything on your own,” said Sherlock, smiling.

Moran suddenly jerked to his left.

“The teaspoons in his inside pocket,” explained Sherlock.

Moran jerked to the right.

“The cake slice in his hip pocket,” said Sherlock.

Moran jerked violently forwards.

“And there we have the forks’ contribution.”

Moran cried out, overbalanced, and fell heavily face down into a banoffee pie. Cutlery streamed out of his pockets and clattered onto the floor.

There was a shocked silence.

Then a citizens’ arrest was carried out by twenty-four WI members.

“Well,” said Sherlock, as they led Moran away. “A most satisfactory conclusion.”

 

“Moran’s been found guilty!” grinned John some weeks later, in the kitchen at Baker Street.

“But he’ll just get a fine, won’t he?” said Lestrade. “He’ll still come after you.”

“On the contrary,” said Sherlock with a smirk. “Moran will never attend a tea party  _ever_ again.

“The man’s been given a lifetime ban.”


End file.
